


2 Broke Girls not!fic

by akire_yta



Category: 2 Broke Girls
Genre: F/F, Ficlets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A series of interconnected ficlets <a href="http://akire-yta.livejournal.com/945302.html"> based off prompts</a> from <span class="ljuser i-ljuser"></span><a href="http://discolucy.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://discolucy.livejournal.com/"><b>discolucy</b></a></p><p>2 Broke Girls, pre-slash to slash, let's just say possible spoilers for all aired eps. Tenses all over the place because I wrote them all in comments out of order.</p>
    </blockquote>





	2 Broke Girls not!fic

**Author's Note:**

> A series of interconnected ficlets [ based off prompts](http://akire-yta.livejournal.com/945302.html) from [](http://discolucy.livejournal.com/profile)[**discolucy**](http://discolucy.livejournal.com/)
> 
> 2 Broke Girls, pre-slash to slash, let's just say possible spoilers for all aired eps. Tenses all over the place because I wrote them all in comments out of order.

 

_And Max's Heart Is A VW Bug_

"Look at the walls, Max."

Max stays sprawled on the couch. "Why, so I can see the water stains that resemble my hopes and dreams?"

Caroline pursed her lips. With her heels still on and her hands on her hips, she'd look almost stern if Max didn't know that every night she went to sleep cuddling a little stuffed dog named Mr Fluffykins. "No. Look at where his pictures used to be. You've moved on, got him out of your life. Why let him back in now, just to break your heart again?"

"He didn't break my heart," Max scoffed. "My heart is like a VW beetle, it could survive a direct nuclear strike."

"Yeah, well the cheap German car of your heart was spluttering out black smoke for weeks after that last little stunt he pulled," Caroline shot back. Max considered it a measure of either their friendship or the depth of her Stockholm Syndrome that she was following along with Caroline's metaphors. "Why would you hand him a second nuke and go 'here, take your best shot!'?"

"Okay," Max said, waving her hand. "Can we stop with the metaphor now, it's getting weird."

"Apt," Caroline corrected. "When he shows his smug hipster face down at the diner tonight, you better tell him where to shove it."

"Wait, his face or the nuke? The metaphor has confused me! And Johnny's not a hipster!"

Caroline snorted and went to get ready for their shift at the diner.

Despite herself, Max found herself turning over Caroline's words as they worked through setup and the first evening rush.

Johnny still had the power to make Max's heart skip a beat when he came in, saw her, and smiled. He sat down in her section and waited for her to come over. "Evening miss. I'll have a cup of coffee and the answer to the question I asked last night, please."

Max put her hand on her hip and looked at him. She thought about the wall of dreams that, despite Max's eyerolling, they had pinned to the wall next to the bathroom. She thought about her and Caroline, and the cupcake bakery, and getting out of this shithole diner.

Then she tried to picture Johnny there, and couldn't. "No."

Johnny blinked, and his smile dimmed. "No?"

Max shook her head. "You only get one shot at the VW of my heart. I can get you that coffee though. To go."

He took the hint.

Caroline was waiting in the freezer for her. "I'm so proud of you," she cooed, going for the hug.

Max blocked her and reached for the can of Coolwhip. "Less hugging, more comfort food."

"Tell me," Olaf said from the door as Max tipped her head back and let rip with a stream of creamy goodness. "How much to let me film the next five minutes of you and that can."

Caroline pushed him out and pulled the door shut. "Hit me, sister," she said, leaning forward with her mouth open.

Max was in a shitty diner's freezer, with her best friend, eating Coolwhip from a can, and she had never felt better.

 

 

_And Max Is A Secret Fangirl_

Caroline hated the shower in their apartment. It took forever to warm up, and the water went unexpectedly brown at random moments. She turned the facets and began pawing through the tiny cabinet for a razor.

Her beautician was also high on the list of things she missed. Razor knicks _stung_.

Cursing, she remembered that they'd bought a new packet of cheap razors when they went out to the store to buy ingredients for the cupcakes. The packet was probably still with the groceries. Wrapping her towel around her, she opened the door.

Max was sitting at the counter, back to the room, bopping along to something catchy on the speakers. As Caroline crossed the room on silent feet, the song ended. "Oh yeah, new song, my boys are back, I knew they would be," Max crowed, more excited than Caroline had seen her since the doorbell-ringing kitten. Max punched a key and the song started again.

Caroline listened. "Is that the Jonas Brothers?" she asked, and had the rare pleasure of seeing Max leap up like a scalded rabbit. Max slapped down the laptop lid, but the music kept playing. Caroline's grin widened. "It is! You like the Jonas Brothers!"

Max squirmed. "You're wasting water, we should be environmentally conscious," she said lamely.

Caroline snorted. "I'm pretty sure our water heater is three blocks away, and I forgot to grab a razor. Come on, tell me, which one's your favourite?" Max scowled and Caroline pulled her ace. "I've met them, you know."

Max's eyes widened. "What are they like? Is Kevin as cute in real life...?" Her ears caught up to her voice, and Max slapped her hands over her mouth, but it was too late.

Caroline had to sit down, she was laughing so hard. "Max is a Jonas fan!"

Max snatched up the packet of razors and threw them at Caroline. "Your bikini line is showing," she snapped back. "Go have your shower and give me and the boys a moment, okay?"

Caroline was in the shower when she heard Max turn up the volume on one of their albums. Smiling fondly, she started to sing along.

 

 

_And There Were Sparkles_

Caroline is half-asleep as she stumbles out of the tiny bathroom. Her bed looks warm and cosy (anything would look warm and cosy after sleeping on the couch for so long, but still) and she's just about to climb back in when she hears an odd noise from Max's room.

Caroline blinks, but Max sleeps like the dead, and even though they don't have much to steal, if a burgler smashes a window, it'd never get fixed (one day, Caroline is going to get Max to tell her the truth about the landlord).

Arming herself with a pillow, Caroline creeps into Max's room. Weak streetlight trickles in through the dirty windows as Caroline looks around for the source of the noise. There it was, a humming, and a...moan.

"Oh my god!" Caroline gasps, then slaps her hand over her mouth.

The covers flip up. "What the heck? Caroline!"

"Sorry, sorry, thought it was a burgler, come to murder us in our beds," she babbles as she backs out.

"I'll tell him to start with you," Max snarls and waves her hands at Caroline, shooing her away.

Caroline's eyes are drawn to what she's holding. "Sparkly?" she says, stopping dead in her tracks. "Seriously?"

Max stashes it back under the covers. "It was on sale," she says, a little hotly. "Now, if you excuse me, I was having a personal moment."

Caroline tries not to giggle. "Please tell me you don't call it Edward?" She laughs as Max hurls a pillow at her, and beats a hasty escape back to her bed.

 

 

 

_And Max Is Appreciated By A Felon_

If Caroline could curl in on herself anymore, she would. Max was still finding the way she was trying not to touch anything _hilarious_. It was better than the first time she made Caroline set the roach trap.

But Max kept the worst of her opinions to herself for one simple reason. Caroline's hair was coiffed perfection, her makeup understated and elegant, despite the fact she'd used Max's cheap chemist makeup and which would probably rub off before they got home. She was wearing some of the clothes they had taken from the penthouse, and even her shoes were shined.

Caroline had a dad who loved her, even if he was stealing Ponzi-scheming bastard, and she loved her daddy. Max could only dream what that was like, but she imagined it might involve getting dressed up in your best to go see him on his birthday.

Even if that did involve getting a patdown in a supermax. That had been kinda funny too, until the guard had fixed Max with a look and snapped on a rubber glove.

"Is this Max, darling?" she heard the old man say through the crappy, tinny speakers that linked the two sides of the security partition.

"Yes daddy. Max, come say hello."

Max dragged herself over into range. "Hello," she said with a lame little wave.

"Daddy, this is my best friend, Max."

Max wasn't sure what she was expecting from the old man, but the look of deep, relieved _gratitude_ sure wasn't it.

 

 

_And High Heels Are Murder_

"Suck it up, Princess," Max says and pours another cup of milk into the new mixer. She's tempted to give it a kiss before starting it up, but Caroline has been giving her shit about doing that all week.

"Stop making eyes at it. I keep thinking you're gonna run away to Canada and elope with it or something," Caroline gripes from the sofa, and Max turns away so Caroline can't see her proud expression - Caroline's bitchy is improving under her tutelage.

"That was the oven, and it wants to wait until it's legal here," Max shoots back as she takes the tray out of the oven and turns the first batch out onto the cooling rack.

"Can I have one? It will make me feel better," Caroline coos.

Max picks one up and waggles it at her. "Come and get it," she sing-songs.

Caroline pouts, face tilted upside down as she leans back over the arm rest. "Max, I can't even make it to the bathroom unassisted."

Max puts the cupcake down and gets out the ingredients for the frosting. "I told you, skyscraper heels and waitressing do not mix."

Caroline covers her face with her arm and holds her other hand straight up in the air. "You mentions Sketchers to me one more time, I swear, I will stab you to death with my heels while you sleep." She swallowed, and her arm falls down to drag on the old rug. "I'd feel naked without them. Those heels are part of the Manhattan dress code."

Max stirs the frosting and starts smearing it over the cupcakes with a spatula. "You're not in Manhattan anymore," she points out.

Instead of a witty comeback, there was just a sigh. "I know," Caroline says tiredly.

If Max maybe puts the bowl with the last smears of frosting still inside it next to Caroline on the sofa, well, it was easier than leaving it to soak. That's all.

 

 

 

 

_And It's Legal In New York_

"Marry me."

Max pauses, blinks, then bends to pull a tray out of the oven. "Shouldn't you be on one knee for that. I'm an old-fashioned kinda girl, you know," she says with a smile.

Caroline isn't laughing. "I'm serious. We operate a home business, there are all kinds of tax credits available to domestic partners who run a business out of their home." She taps the thick wad of papers she had been reading while Max had been whipping up a fresh batch.

Max tugs off her oven mittens and puts a hand on her hips. "You want to get married for a tax break? Olaf would never let us hear the end of it, and for that alone, we're not doing it."

Caroline smirks, then smiles sweetly, that same smile she had when Max had brought her home from the subway, all those years ago. "Since when do you care what anyone thinks. Besides," she adds. "You can wear white if you want. I won't tell."

Max throws an oven mit at her.

 

 

 

_And One Hipster Is One Too Many_

Caroline was seriously tempted to duct tape Max to a chair. She loved the girl, and without her, Caroline was pretty sure she'd still be sleeping on the downtown subway, but still.

Max was too busy bent over laughing to notice Caroline's scheming. "Really? _Oracle_? That's like, hipster nirvana in print. It's the hipster bible. It's hipster..."

"Yes, yes, alright, we get it," Caroline cut in, waving her hand. "It's everything you despise in the universe printed in Berlinga, but they want to do a feature spread on us in their Sunday supplement. We're at a critical point in establishing our business, we need to get brand name recognition. And this will do that. So please, just make cupcakes in the background, save up all your sarcasm to release later at home, and let me do the talking. Please," she asked. Max was defenseless against sincerity. She didn't hear it often enough to know how to deal with it effectively.

Max huffed, feigning grumpy. Caroline knew the difference now between a faux-grump and real-grump. "Fine, but you owe me."

Caroline bounced on her heels and clapped her hands. "When they do the spread, we'll see a boost in business. That means we'll be able to afford that industrial mixer you were drooling over at the trade show last month."

Max tried not to grin. "With the K-wheel attachments?"

Caroline nodded and hoped the attachments didn't cost as much as the appliance like it had with the dishwasher installed in the corner. "Deal."

Now, all Caroline had to do was make sure the reporter from Oracle got a mouthful of cupcake every time they looked like they were going to ask Max a question.

Easy.

 

 

 

_And the One Where They Finally Hook Up_

Max lifts her head, feeling like she'd been trampled by Chestnut. An angry, zombie Chestnut. THe thought of a zombie horse made her stomach turn over. "Ergh," she managed and flopped forward again.

There was an echo of a groan from under her covers. Max considered ignoring it, but the rats had been pretty stupidly huge this year. She cautiously lifted the covers. Caroline's hair was a mess. Her once-sleek blunt cut had slowly been growing out, and whatever had happened last night seemed to have involved plaiting it into a dozen tiny braids.

Caroline lifted her head, and Max saw a familiar shade of lipstick smeared over her cheek and down her throat. "Light, turn off the light."

"It's the sun, it doesn't come with an off switch," Max griped. Her throat felt odd, heavy and strangely cool. She reached up and felt the smoothness of pearls and gold chained there. A glance confirmed that Caroline's own neck was bare. "I'm probably going to regret asking this, but why am I wearing your necklace, and why are you covered in my lipstick."

Caroline uncurled herself from her foetal ball. "And why are we both naked?"


End file.
